


Waypoint

by orphan_account



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Commission fic, Drift and Megatron are both on the Lost Light and everything is fine, Multi, Public Sex, Rodimus is embracing his role as a bottom, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 07:56:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16193342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It’s easy to fall back on old habits when Megatron’s around.





	Waypoint

**Author's Note:**

  * For [prowlish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/prowlish/gifts).



> For Ziggy.

“You look a little bored,” Drift said, perching himself on the console beside Rodimus in a manner that was unfairly smooth. He crossed his legs, leaving Rodimus mesmerized in a move that must have been entirely calculated.

“It’s bridge duty,” Rodimus said as he turned away in a poor attempt at saving face. He knew he looked the spitting image of boredom in that moment: lips pursed in a pout, fingers drumming restlessly, chin propped stubbornly in his hand, optics glazed over. Gawking at the elegance of Drift’s frame would have been a welcome distraction; but not one that he was sure would be appropriate, given the uncertain ground he found himself treading on when it came to their relationship ever since Drift’s return. “At night. When everyone else is partying it up at Swerve’s. ‘Course I’m bored.”

“Well.” Drift slid closer, causing his thigh to bump against Rodimus’ arm. “Guess it’s fortunate that Ultra Magnus scheduled us together.”

Rodimus looked back at him, optics wide and owlish with poorly-concealed hope. “You, uh. What are you - what are you suggesting?”

His words were colored with an undercurrent of static. He cleared his intake to try and salvage the suave image he always strived to project.

Drift leaned in to murmur conspiratorially in his audial. “I think,” and there was a flash of pointed teeth - a relic from his Decepticon days that always had Rodimus’ fuel running warm - as he grinned, “we should have a little fun of our own.”

Rodimus swallowed as his mouth went dry. His array stirred; a sentiment echoed by the way his spoiler quivered with obvious interest. “Right here? Like, on the bridge?”

“If you’re interested.” Drift trailed a hand along Rodimus’ arm, enticing but not too pushy.

“I am.” Rodimus cringed when his voice cracked with the admission. “I mean, yeah. Of course. I just didn’t know you were such a...” He gestured at the space around them, completely public, though empty as it was at the moment. “Such a - y’know, an exhibitionist.”

Drift’s laughter always came easily around Rodimus, but it never failed to leave Rodimus’ tank fluttering with something he couldn’t quite name.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Rodimus.”

It aroused Rodimus as much as it dredged up a sense of shame that no, he truly didn’t know everything about his best-friend-slash-lover, and it was a reminder of the vow he’d made to do better; even before Drift had returned, when the smell of burning metal was still fresh, as were the numbers scorched and carved into his palm. 

“Care to show me, then?” And Rodimus prided himself on how he managed to not flub the delivery of his invitation, despite the way his chest felt tight and his tongue heavy beneath Drift’s gaze.

“Right on the console?” Drift suggested, stroking the metal right where Rodimus was now envisioning himself draped across in a wanton display that would surely spur some tirade from Ultra Magnus about their lack of respect for the ship’s equipment.

There was something about Drift’s proposal that made Rodimus feel young again, and he grinned with a sort of childish glee as he laid back right where Drift wanted him. The discomfort of various buttons and switches jabbing at his spoiler was easy to forget in the face of the thrill that came with doing something as mischievous and downright naughty as shirking their command duties for a little pleasure. He could practically see the disappointment on Ultra Magnus’ face as Drift stood and framed Rodimus’ body with his own in one smooth motion that left Rodimus dumbstruck.

“Hey,” Drift purred, his hand already finding its way down to Rodimus’ panel. “Ready to make things a little more interesting?”

“You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that,” Rodimus breathed, and his panel snapped open with a speed that betrayed his eagerness.

The click was almost deafening in the quiet of the bridge, where the only noise was the occasional whir of machinery as it worked on autopilot. Drift, mercifully, didn’t comment on it, and he was quick to begin running his fingers through the folds of Rodimus’ valve. 

“I missed this,” Drift admitted softly.

Rodimus bit his lip when Drift rolled his anterior node beneath the pad of his thumb. “You act like nothing’s changed,” he said, and he recalled the various trysts they’d shared before the exile, ones that Rodimus had usually taken the initiative with.

“I guess they have,” Drift said, and something melancholy was there in the curve of his mouth. His fingers were already growing slick with lubricant, and it wasn’t long before he began to ease them in and out of Rodimus’ channel. “Or maybe I’m just trying to be a little more honest with myself.”

Rodimus’ optics shuttered as his charge continued to build beneath Drift’s touch. “Don’t ever lie to yourself again,” he said, and he couldn’t deny that it may have sounded a little desperate as Drift curled his fingers just so to reach a cluster of nodes that would have his ventilations coming short and rapid.

“Didn’t know you liked having me on top of you so much,” Drift teased, and to punctuate that thought he nipped Rodimus’ finial with fangs that could have easily left him marred; a mark, a claim.

“Shut up,” Rodimus protested half-heartedly, his face coloring with embarrassment and arousal alike. 

Drift gave him an apologetic kiss as he opened his own panel and began stroking his spike. Rodimus cracked open an optic to peer down at it, realizing that he hadn’t had a chance to become intimately acquainted with Drift’s new frame yet. 

There must have been an obvious hunger in his gaze. Drift took Rodimus’ hand and guided it down to his spike, granting the permission that Rodimus so clearly desired. 

And Rodimus was never one to squander an opportunity to bring Drift pleasure. He wrapped his hand around Drift’s spike and gave it an appreciative squeeze, earning a grunt of approval that had him growing bolder with his strokes. 

“Seem a little sensitive,” Rodimus remarked as he circled the tip with his thumb, leaving Drift gripping the console. “Have you...?”

“Not yet,” Drift said, and as he leaned further over Rodimus he buried his face in his intake. “It’s about time to break it in.”

Rodimus felt a surge of pride at being trusted with doing so.

“C’mon, Drift,” Rodimus urged, letting go of Drift’s stiff spike and tilting his hips up encouragingly. “It’s been too long. We’ve got a lot of lost time to make up for.”

“Still so impatient.” Drift’s breath was warm against Rodimus’ neck as he began to press in. “I’m glad that hasn’t changed about you.”

He met a little resistance at first as Rodimus tensed. Drift took one of Rodimus’ cables between his teeth, giving it a nip that straddled the line between sensual and dangerous and had Rodimus going pliant beneath his touch. Rodimus’ calipers relaxed, welcoming Drift back to where he’d always belonged, and he slid home.

Drift didn’t keep Rodimus waiting any longer. He rocked - gently at first, but growing faster, more insistent, as Rodimus chanted encouragement in his audial - and laced their hands together to help keep Rodimus grounded as he gave him the ‘facing that had been a long time coming.

“I missed you,” Rodimus murmured as he met each one of Drift’s thrusts with as much enthusiasm as his partner was putting into their coupling. “I missed this so mu-ooh my god!?”

He froze, as did Drift. Rodimus knew there was no hiding their guilt before Megatron, an absolute, immovable behemoth who stood in the entryway to the bridge, his hands clasped behind his back and his expression frustratingly - terrifyingly - unreadable. 

Drift, however, seemed unperturbed by the intrusion. He greeted the newcomer with a terse, “Megatron,” much to Rodimus’ amazement and horror.

“I came to relieve Rodimus,” Megatron said stiffly. His optics slowly moved between Drift, his frame blanketed over Rodimus’ and his expression entirely unapologetic, and Rodimus, who had his legs obscenely spread and looked a far cry from the image that captaincy was expected to invoke. “It appears you’re already doing that.”

“Was that-” Rodimus came to life then, frantically searching Megatron’s face for even a simple twitch of amusement that could betray his intentions behind that remark. But Megatron remained stubbornly stoic, leaving Rodimus to whisper, “Was that a joke?”

“Do you trust me?” Drift asked, and in a shameless act of defiance he not only refused to pull out but also continued to roll his hips, despite the suffocating presence of their audience of one. 

“‘Course I do,” Rodimus said, and glanced between the devious glint in Drift’s optic and Megatron, who had yet to explode, report them to Ultra Magnus, have him stripped of his title for public indecency, or some combination of all of the above and decided that perhaps Megatron really did have a soft spot for his former Decepticon. “I always have.”

“Then...” Drift tilted his head in the direction of Megatron in a silent request for permission, and the thrill of Drift’s proposition - the second one that evening - had Rodimus nodding his assent. 

“You just going to stand there and watch?” Drift challenged as he continued to fuck Rodimus at a leisurely pace. 

Rodimus clamped his legs around Drift’s waist as the charge that had started to dissipate began to build up once more. He wondered how Drift must have looked to Megatron right then, bent over with his valve on display, biolights blinking fitfully with an arousal that welcomed more than just two players in this liaison of theirs.

Megatron’s steps were measured as he approached them, as was everything he did. “Your conduct is inappropriate for this ship’s command crew,” he rumbled, and he dwarfed the two of them as he came to pause behind Drift. 

He placed a hand on either side of Drift, caging both of them easily, and leaned down to murmur in Drift’s audial. “I’d thought you would have moved past solving your problems this way.”

Drift gave a sharp thrust, causing Rodimus to gasp and jolt beneath him. “And you have room to judge?”

“...No,” Megatron conceded, and Rodimus could hear the click of a panel followed by the sound of a spike pressurizing. “I don’t.”

Rodimus blinked as Drift stilled suddenly. His intakes hitched; not in a prelude to an overload, as Rodimus had come to expect from him, but as his frame was suddenly bombarded with the sensation of giving and receiving all at once. 

There was the cycling of three sets of vents, the beeps and whirs of the abused console beneath them, and Rodimus couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation they suddenly found themselves in. 

It wasn’t long before Drift joined in with a beautiful, uproarious, inelegant sound that was so wonderfully contrasted to the fluidity and grace with which he did seemingly everything.

Megatron’s lips remained pressed in what Rodimus deemed was a perpetual frown.

“Command threesome, huh,” Rodimus said when their laughter petered out. “Can’t say I ever saw this coming. Want me to comm. Mags, make it a full set?”

Megatron thrust then, driving into Drift and in turn pushing him against Rodimus, causing their arrays to collide with dizzying friction. It was an effective method of silencing any further commentary from his co-captain, and Rodimus was content to simply lay back and enjoy the ride. 

There was some fumbling and cursing as they tried to find a rhythm, but they managed to fall into a pattern of Megatron rocking into Drift and Drift following up by doing the same for Rodimus. All the while their charge continued to amplify as if there were a complete circuit between them, with the pleasure of one compounding with that of the others to create a harmonious sense of euphoria.

And in their own unconventional way, it almost seemed like they’d be able to make things work.

_______________________________________

“You knew I was coming,” Megatron said. His voice was level - a simple statement of fact, not an accusation - and his expression stoic as he gazed out at the inkwell of space. “I was hoping we could have an actual conversation about this like mature mechs.” 

“This worked well enough for us in the past,” Drift retorted, admittedly with an air of petulance that brought him back to his days beneath Megatron’s authority, of wanting - needing - that sense of validation that Megatron had, at a time, seemed eager to bestow upon him.

“Drift,” Megatron said with a weary sigh, and the disappointment in his tired optics still weighed on Drift as heavily as it had when he’d gone by another name. “You’re better than this, now. I can tell.”

“Yeah?” Drift knew he looked hopeful; something he would have characterized as a weakness, once upon a time. “We’ve barely been here together. That’s a pretty bold assumption to make.”

“You still have a hard time giving yourself credit, I see.” For the first time that evening Megatron managed a hint of a smile, and Drift wondered if those were more commonplace for him now than they’d been back when they’d fought side by side. “Rodimus talked about you a lot while you were gone. It wasn’t always easy for him - he carries a lot of guilt, as I’m sure you know - but, once he started...” Megatron shook his head, and Drift could have interpreted the action as fond. “You’re a man worthy of respect, Drift. You need to learn to accept that for yourself.”

Drift glanced over to the captain’s chair where Rodimus was sprawled out, his lips curled in a contented smile as he recharged in the glow of post-coital bliss. “I didn’t know how to approach you. Falling back on old habits seemed easier.”

“Perhaps I could have made myself more approachable,” Megatron said, and weak as the admission was, Drift knew it was likely the best he could expect for the time being.

“We’re both works in progress, right?” Drift gave Megatron a playful nudge in the side. It was the most casual they’d been in thousands of years, interface included. “But that doesn’t belittle everything we’ve done, all the steps we’ve made.”

Megatron’s hand brushed chastely against Drift’s. “I’m proud of you for what you’ve become. And what you will become.”

Drift rolled his optics before taking the initiative and lacing their fingers together. “Same to you.”


End file.
